


Badlands

by notaboutcat



Series: the furies [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ana is a brat but she has a lot of growth, Big focus on Ana and Bruce's relationship, Ed Nygma/Kennedy is more minor than ana/jim but it's there, F/M, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Heroine's Journey, One of the most important relationships in the story, POV Original Female Character, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Slow Burn, Trying to make the backstories a little more accurate the comics, Wayne family feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaboutcat/pseuds/notaboutcat
Summary: Party girl and 'Gotham's Princess' Anastasia Wayne finds her life suddenly changed when her parents are murdered and her little brother traumatized. Now, she suddenly finds herself being sent into the unknown, with the murder not only sending her family into a tailspin, but also the entire city as well.





	1. the kids aren't alright

**BADLANDS**  
CHAPTER ONE  
THE KIDS AREN’T ALRIGHT

“It kills me sometimes, how people die.”   
― [ **Markus Zusak**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11466.Markus_Zusak), [ **The Book Thief**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/878368)

“Get off the road, dumbass!”

Loud shrieks of laughter echo through the street. Anastasia Wayne hangs onto her best friend’s arm, head thrown back with laughter as Kennedy Vasquez waves her middle finger and screeches swears back at a cab driver, moments after he narrowly avoided running the two of them down as they darted across the street.

It’s clear that the pair had been drinking before they decided to make the trek from the club back to Ana’s apartment.

“Oh, I can just see this picture in the tabloids tomorrow – ‘ _Girls gone wild’_ ,” Kennedy mutters, waving her hand in front of her to indicate the headline. As the reckless daughters of two of Gotham’s most powerful businessmen, the paparazzi have a fascination with them.

“Oh no, darling, to warrant that headline someone has to have their tits out,” Ana replies.

“Yours or mine?”

“Either.” She shrugs. “Maybe both, it might have appeased Mr Grumpy a little more.” She nods in the direction the irate cab driver had driven before she shrieks suddenly as her foot lands in a puddle. Kennedy dives ahead so she misses the puddle and throws her head back with laughter. Ana swats at her with the shoes she clutches in her hands.

“Hey, it’s your own fault! We wouldn’t be walking anywhere if you weren’t such a fucking clutz.” Kennedy says, nodding towards the shoes Ana just hit her with. The heel on one of them is only hanging on by a scrap of fabric. The phone in Ana's other hand, meanwhile, is nearly shattered.

Ana rolls her eyes. “Excuse you, I am so goddamn graceful. The floor was wet and I slipped!”

“You suing for damages?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“By the way,” Kennedy says, “I forgot to ask, was your mom pissed about you bailing on the movie?”

The smile on Ana’s face falls as her stomach twists with guilt. Her parents had wanted her to come to see a movie that night, along with her brother, but she had cancelled after a girl she and Kennedy were friendly with suddenly got engaged and decided that they wanted to go out to celebrate.

If she’s being honest, she would have rather have gone with her family, but her friends had begged her to come – and spend her money on them - and _fuck,_ maybe she’s just weak-willed, but she likes feeling liked and wanted after spending so long feeling like she wasn’t--

 _Enough_. She’s not thinking about that tonight.

She tries to think about something, anything else, but her mind refuses, lingering on the conversation with her mother instead. In fact, she was pissed, telling her that Bruce had been looking forward to spending time with her.

 _Bruce would be okay_ , she thinks, _It’s just one night_.

“Well, she wasn’t pleased about it,” she says as they make their way up the steps into her apartment building, “But we’re all going for lunch tomorrow, so it should be fine.” She picks at the nail polish on her thumb, trying not to show how guilty she felt. She can still hear the disappointment in her mother’s voice. She fixes a smile on her face and links arms with Kennedy. “Come on, I’m freezing and need new shoes.”

The pair make their way up the steps and through the building, only pausing when they hear a noise near her door.

“Oh, just leave it, Gotham’s princess must be out with her cronies.”

Ana exchanges an unimpressed look with Kennedy at the sound of a man’s voice nearby. They knows he’s talking about Ana; the nickname was so commonly used by the papers. The condescending nickname had been bestowed upon her by the papers and stuck, mostly used to demean her, because she likes to throw her money around and they like to mock her for it. It used to make her angrier when she was younger – _it’s her life why did they care_ but she embraces it now, putting on a smirk to greet her _subjects_.

Two men stand near her apartment, one an older, scruffy-looking man and the other younger, with a serious look to him and pretty blue eyes. They turn to face her when the pair turn the corner and Ana opens her mouth.

“Well, if you wanted a chat so bad, darling, you could have called,” she says, enjoying how the scruffy looking one scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, her sudden appearance surprising him. “Can I help you two?”

“Miss Wayne, I’m Detective Gordon, this is Detective Bullock,” Detective Pretty-Eyes says, by way of introduction. “We’ve been trying to contact you for nearly an hour.”

Ana waves the shattered phone towards him. “I had a mishap.” The detective gives her an unimpressed look as she and Kennedy start giggling.

“Ma’am, it’s an urgent matter, could we step inside please?” he says.

Ana glances at Kennedy and raises an eyebrow. “Taxi Man couldn’t have worked that quickly,” Kennedy mutters as the four enter Ana’s apartment, stopping in the little foyer.

“ _Ma’am_?” She mouths back, the word making her cringe and Kennedy grin.

The door is shut behind them and Pretty-Eyes turns to face her. “Ma’am-“

“Come on now, detective, “ _Ma’am”_ makes me sound like I’m fifty,” she says, the smile still fixed on her face.

Detective Gordon presses his lips together and sighs. There’s something about getting a rise out of him that makes her smirk. Maybe it’s the way he almost looks disdainful or the way his partner keeps on rolling his eyes that makes her want to keep pushing it.

 “Miss Wayne,” he says finally, “your parents were involved in a mugging earlier this evening.”

 Her smile falls and her stomach drops as he continues, confirming the worst.

 “And, I’m very sorry to tell you this, but something went wrong and…they were killed.”

_They were killed._

_Killed._

Her parents were dead.

She slaps her hands over her mouth, stifling the sob that threatens to erupt and turns her back to others so they don’t see the tears in her eyes. She catches Kennedy with her hands clasped over her mouth. _Her parents are dead._ Someone’s talking to her – she thinks it might be Kennedy or Detective Gordon – but she can’t hear it. _Her parents are dead._ Dead. Dead. She’d never hear her mother’s voice or hold her father’s hand-

_Bruce._

She whips around again. “Where’s Bruce?” she says, panic overtaking her because _oh god had something happened to Bruce_? “Where’s my brother? Is he alright? He’s only twelve-“

"Miss Wayne, your brother is fine--" Detective Gordon starts to say.

“Where is he?” she snaps before he can continue, feeling the panic build and build in her chest because _oh god what if something happened to Bruce had she lost her family she couldn’t have oh god please-_

“Your family butler picked him up, an Alfred Pennyworth? He brought him back to Wayne Manor already.” he says, glancing at the other detective, who nods in agreement.

"Is he okay? Is he hurt? Why didn't you find me sooner?"

“Well, that’s the problem, we were trying to find you but you had your little ‘ _mishap’_.” The scruffy-looking detective almost sneers the last part at her.

She turns to shove past Detective Gordon, focused solely on Bruce and getting to him. She has to see that he's alright -- _but no, he won't be alright, he watched mom and dad die, he's only twelve oh god she had to get to him--_

 “Wait, wait, you need some shoes, Ana.” Kennedy says gently, grabbing onto her arm.

“No, what I need is to get to Bruce!” she snaps, trying to tug her arm out of Kennedy’s grip.

“I’ll take you to Wayne Manor, but you should listen to your friend,” Gordon says. Ana turns to throw on some shoes and then bolts out of the door.

* * *

 

The drive to the manor is silent. Ana is shaking in the backseat and she can see Detective Gordon glancing at her in the rear view mirror. She hopes he doesn’t want to speak to her. If she speaks, she fears she’ll break down sobbing. The only thing that’s keeping from breaking down is the need to get to Bruce to see if he was alright.

Kennedy had gone home, suggesting that Bruce would want to see Ana and only Ana, though she had promised to come visit the next day. The scruffy detective had requested to be dropped off somewhere else, where she couldn’t frankly care less. One less person to possibly witness her inevitable breakdown.  Ana remains in the backseat of Detective Gordon’s car, alone with only said Detective.

“Uh,” Detective Gordon says, finally speaking up, “your brother wasn’t hurt when Mr. Pennyworth came for him. Scared, but he wasn’t hurt.”

She wonders if this is his way of trying to comfort her.

“I should have been there.” The words come out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “I should have been with them.” The guilt writhes in her stomach. She blew off her family and now she would never see them again. Her little brother had watched their parents die and had been there _alone_ and _scared_ and oh _god_ _she should have been there-_

“You couldn’t have known,” he says quietly. Ana glances up and meets his eyes for a moment in the rear view mirror. She turns away when she feels tears prick at her eyes.

They’re silent for the rest of the drive and pull up to the front of her childhood home. The detective has barely brought the car to a stop when Ana bolts out towards the house. Alfred is already opening the door when she gets there, a grave expression on his face.

“Where’s Bruce?” she snaps, darting past him into the main hall.

“Miss, he’s very shaken up, you need to-“

“Where were you?”

A small voice at the top of the stairs grabs her attention, causing her to whip around in unison with Alfred. Bruce stands there, tears streaking down his cheeks. “You were supposed to be there, why weren’t you there?”

“Bruce, I…I’m sorry…” She trails off. After focusing so long on nothing else but getting to him, she's not even sure of what she can say to comfort him now that she's here. Abruptly, he runs down the stairs and wraps his arms around her. Ana lets out a grunt at his sudden weight, but pulls him closer as he starts to cry into chest.

“You promised mom and then you weren’t-weren’t there--” he sobs, hiccupping between words.

“I’m so sorry, Bruce.” she whispers, before making eye contact with the detective over Bruce’s head.  She mouths ‘thank you’ to him and he nods back to her in return.

The sight of her brother, safe and alive, causes the reality of the situation to finally set in. For the first time since she found out, Ana lets out a sob and buries her face in her brother’s hair.

Their parents were dead.

Nothing would ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed that first chapter!! This is my first Gotham story and my first story after about a year of not writing lmao so I hope it’s okay. Please let me know what you think! Also, big thank you to comealongpixie/jabberwocking for betaing!!


	2. the archetypes

**BADLANDS**  
CHAPTER TWO  
THE ARCHETYPES

“The whole world can become the enemy when you lose what you love.”   
_―_ **Kristina McMorris** **, Bridge of Scarlet Leaves**

Half an hour later, Jim Gordon steps into a quiet diner, one that Harvey had said to meet him at when he was finished with the Wayne’s. It’s almost empty apart from a few filled tables and his partner sitting at the counter, clutching a cup of coffee and looking more worn-down now that the night had went on. Said partner turns around at the sound of the door opening.

“There he is!” he exclaims.

“Hey,” Jim replies, sliding into the stool beside him.

**“** Finished with her royal highness then?” Harvey asks, holding out his cup for the waitress to refill.

Jim’s eyebrows come together as he looks at his partner. “What’s your issue with her, anyway?” he asks. He'd been wondering about it since he saw them earlier, Harvey and Anastasia looking down their noses at each other in her apartment.

Harvey shrugs. “Nothing, I just think she’s some bored little rich girl with too much money to spend,” he says. “Tired of seeing her face in the papers for getting drunk off her ass.”

“I take it she’s in the papers a lot, then?”

“Oh yeah,” Harvey replies, “they love her. They started with her when she was in this car wreck years ago where another kid died, and then she started to be in it like every week for whatever shit she got into. Don’t know how her parents put up with that, if my kid was plastered like that, they’d be shipped off somewhere to military school, get their ass in line.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his hip flask, pouring its contents into his mug.

Jim raises a brow, clearly unimpressed, glancing pointedly from Harvey's face to the flash in his hand. “Yeah, yeah,” Harvey says, shoving his flask back into his jacket, “I know what it looks like, but I have my reasons for what I do. I highly doubt her majesty does, girl’s living the life of Riley for Christ’s sake.”

“Think that’s a little much for someone you don’t know.”

“What, you like her now because she made googly eyes at you?” Harvey quips, raising his eyebrows as he glances up at his partner over his coffee cup.

Jim frowns at him. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he thought about Gotham’s so-called ‘princess’. At first, she had seemed exactly how Harvey had described her, drunk and irresponsible. However, that sudden change in her attitude, that desperation to make sure her brother was alright almost made him waver in his opinion.

“No, I’m just trying to be little sympathetic considering her parents were just murdered,” he deadpans.

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Whatever you want to call it, buddy,” he replies, “Just don’t let your fiancée let you hear that.”

* * *

 

The sun shining in from a crack in the curtains rouses Ana from her sleep. She sits up and groans, rubbing her neck as a sharp pain shoots up it. Her decision to sleep on the couch in her father’s office is not, apparently, one her body is thanking her for.

She shifts slightly, trying to get slightly comfortable without waking Bruce. It had taken Ana and Alfred’s combined efforts to calm him down before he finally feel asleep, exhausted, in the early hours of the morning. She couldn’t wake him up, not yet.

He’s curled up beside her, his head resting on her knee, still in the same clothes from the night before, just as she is. Bruce had bolted to the office the moment the detective had left, and neither Ana nor Alfred had had the heart to even try to coax him into sleeping in his bedroom.

It’s not a surprise that Bruce would choose the room their father spent the most time in; Ana probably would’ve chosen it too. It lets them both feel close to him.

She can remember nights where she had sat at the coffee table doing her homework while her father did his own work at desk – she had wanted to be a grown-up and do her work in the office like daddy. She can still picture him at that desk, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose as he squinted at a document and tutting occasionally at “silly people doing silly things.” That’s how he explained it to her when she asked about it, anyway.

Staring at the desk and seeing the work left there by her father causes a lump in her throat. He thought he was coming back. They both did and now they weren’t –

The door opens suddenly and Ana wipes away the stray tears quickly, pushing back the urge to curl up in a ball and not get up again. Alfred barrels through the door, sets something down on the table and throws open the curtains. Ana hisses at the light, covering her eyes.

“Right you two, up and at ‘em. Time for breakfast,” Alfred says, coming to stand in front of them. Bruce stirs but doesn’t wake up. He picks the items he had set down up from the table and hands them to her, Ana then realising that it was two painkillers and a glass of water. “Thought you might be needing these.”

Ana thanks him and downs the pills, before frowning up at him. “Shouldn’t you be letting him sleep a little longer?” she whispers, trying not to wake Bruce up. 

“It’s nearly noon, Miss, I think I’ve let him sleep long enough,” Alfred replies. “Besides, I think it would be best for both of you to keep in your regular routine.”

Ana frowns at him. Maybe she’s just sleep-deprived, but her brain can’t seem to process what he’s saying. “Regular routine? Alfred, he’s exhausted, maybe we just need to let him sleep.”

“I think your parents would have wanted you both to try,” Alfred says.

“How would you know?!” Ana snaps, “They’re not here to tell you, are they?”

 They lock eyes, with Ana glaring up at him. In the back of her mind, the reasonable part of her thinks that he mentioned them to try to encourage her. The rest of her wants to scream at him for using them to bargain with her so casually.

Her gaze snaps away when Bruce stirs; when he ultimately stays asleep, she slumps back onto the chair, rubbing at her eyes. She just wants to hide, is that too much to ask?

Alfred continues on, sounding a little softer. “If not today, then it should be soon, Miss. Your relatives will be arriving soon for the funeral.”

She glances up at him, feeling her anger recede slightly. “You called them?”

He nods. “I know the funeral will be need to be soon. The earlier we got in contact, the better.”

“Thank you,” Ana says softly. That had been the one task she had been dreading the most. She’s not sure, but thinks she might have mentioned that in passing the night before to him. She had been so focused on Bruce but she must have mentioned it. The fact that he done it for her makes her anger soften.

That was Alfred all-over. He had never been the type of man to shower people with hugs and sympathetic words in bad times, but he did what he could to help. She couldn’t be more grateful for that, especially now. If she had the energy for it, she might have apologised, but right now she settles for a quiet thank you.

“The funeral’s all been arranged,” Alfred continues. “We’ll be able to set a date once the…bodies are released.”

Ana presses her hands to her eyes, wishing she could hide in her bed for the next few days. She had been talking to her mother yesterday and now they’re talking about burying her parents. _God_ , she needs them so badly now.

 “You have the will reading tomorrow as well,” Alfred says.

Ana pulls her hands away from her face. “You’re kidding me,” she says. “Can it not wait?”

“I would have thought so, Miss,” Alfred replies, his tone clearly unimpressed, “but the board is insisting that it’s tomorrow to make preparations for whoever will take over the CEO position. I told them that it would be best to wait but unfortunately-” Alfred sets his teeth and sighs- “they were very… _insistent_.”

“ _Great_ ,” Ana sighs, rubbing at her eyes again. She feels even more exhausted at the idea of dealing with the board. Why does she have to appear anyway? She’d rather just send Priscilla, the family lawyer, and be done with it. After her behaviour over the last few years, it's unlikely that the CEO position will be left to her.

But no. She knows she has to go, because her father would have wanted family there and she doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“And I would take off the makeup if I were you; you’re very reminiscent of a racoon right now.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at him. At that, she feels Bruce beginning to stir again. This attention snaps to the boy, watching him sit up and rub at his eyes.

“Hey,” she says softly, her own worries pushed aside to focus on her little brother. “You feeling up for some food?”

“I can make you some scrambled eggs, Master Bruce, just the way you like them,” Alfred adds.

“No thank you,” Bruce says, his voice clipped and emotionless.

Ana frowns. “It’s about noon, Bruce, I’m sure you must be a little hungry.”

“I don’t need anything!” Bruce snaps, getting up from the couch and going towards their father’s desk. Ana swings her legs off the chair and stands up, going towards him. “I-I’d like to be alone right now actually.”

Ana and Alfred exchange a worried glance. “Maybe that’s not the best idea,” she suggests softly. “How about we…watch a movie or something or--“

“I want to be alone!” Bruce snaps, making Ana wince, already sensitive to noise. “Please…” Bruce trails off, pushing past the pair of them, “I just want a little time.” She can’t hear his voice by the time he’s out the door.

Ana stands there for a moment, staring after her brother. That exhaustion threatens to swallow her again, but she pushes it back to follow after him.

* * *

 

The time for the will reading comes way too quickly. Already, she finds herself being driven to Wayne Enterprises, rubbing her temples at the thought of dealing with the board at that moment. They’ll be all smiles and charm to her, but she knows what they really think of her, the way they will look down their nose at her when they thinks she’s not looking. She’s in no mood for that today. She just wants to stay with Bruce, but she couldn’t disappoint her father. Not now. She had done that enough when he was alive.

Ana pulls the hip flask out of her purse and downs a gulp, before catching her driver, Henry’s, eye. “Don’t judge,” she says. “I need it for today.”

He chuckles. “Mm, I don’t blame you for that.”

The car pulls up to the front entrance of the building and Ana takes a deep breath. “Call when you need me, Miss,” Henry says. “I hope it goes well today.”

She snorts, putting on her sunglasses, “So do I, Henry.”

With that, she steps out of the car and makes her way to the side entrance of Wayne Enterprises. She pulls her coat around her tighter, the air still brisk. She had arrived early in the hopes of avoiding the paparazzi that seemed to linger around every corner, since her parents died. There are a few photographers, but they don’t come near her, held back by the security guards.

Ana keeps her head high and shows no signs of the exhaustion she feels. She’ll not give them anything to use against her, she’s dealt with them long enough to how to.   

The masses in the foyer seem to part on her arrival. Some stare at her like other strangers have been doing since the news of her parents deaths broke out. It makes a small part of her want to shrink, but she holds her head high and moves her sunglasses to perch on top of her curls.

A blonde woman at the desk glances up at her and does a double-take before she jumps up from the desk. “Miss Wayne! If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you up to the meeting. It’s in the main conference room.”

That makes her scowl a little. She knows the place like the back of her hand, having run about the place growing up. Maybe she's taking it a little too personally, but she doesn't enjoy being treated like a guest, and every little thing seems to be pissing her off. “The one on 20th, next to my father’s office?”

The woman seems to shrink a little under her gaze. “Uh…yes?”

“I know how to get to my father’s office,” Ana says, stepping past her, “Thank you.”

“But…but I’m supposed to take you up!” she calls, chasing after her as Ana steps into the elevator.

“And now you don’t have to.” The doors close, cutting off all contact. She’s allowed a moment to breathe, before she squares her shoulders and puts on a blank mask. No sign of the fact that she wanted to go home and ignore the world. She wouldn’t give them any hint of emotion, anything they could take and twist to mock her with.

She enters the boardroom and the room falls silent, nothing but the glances of the board members until Beatrice Andrews, one of the members, stands up. “Ana, sweetheart, we weren’t expecting you so early!” She steps forward to pull Ana into an awkward hug. “We were so sorry to hear about your parents, it’s so tragic and poor Bruce as well, how is he?”

“As you would expect, he’s still in shock, I think.” She tries to remain as civil towards Andrews as she can while the woman is putting on the concerned mother figure act. Ana still remembers her father’s angry reaction when Beatrice had made a comment about Ana’s behaviour that had ended up in the papers. She didn’t know what was said, but it was enough for her father to rant to her mother about _that woman – “How dare she speak about Ana that way? Who the hell does she think she is?”_

Her sweetness is a mask, but maybe Ana shouldn’t judge her wearing one. She can put one on just as well.

“The poor boy, it breaks my heart.” Beatrice says.

Before Ana can respond, she hears the sound of her name and turns to see Kennedy’s father, Victor, come towards her and pull her into a hug. She relaxes slightly at the sight of him. Maybe it’s just the association to Kennedy; it makes him more familiar than the others. “How are you? Kennedy and I would like to come and visit the family, but we didn’t want to intrude. I know how it felt when my Mari died; you never had a moment to yourself.”

Kennedy's mother, Mari, had passed away when they were twelve from an inoperable brain tumour. That's why Kennedy knew to give Ana and her brother the space they need, while assuring her she was there if needed. She knows loss.

She’s the only one of Ana's friends who reached out to her after her parents died.

“You can come whenever, the house will be full soon anyway,” She replies. “The guests will all be arriving soon for the funeral.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, just as the will reader tells them to take a seat so they can get started. Victor assures her they will speak soon, before Ana goes to sit at the table.

The will lists off the things she expected; the money will be split up among her and Bruce, the manor is still in the family name, the list goes on and on. She doesn’t make a sound until something unexpected comes up.

“And to my daughter, Anastasia Wayne,” the will reader says. “On her twenty-fifth birthday, in the event of the demise of both myself and my wife, she will gain full control of our shares and inherit the CEO position.”

A hush comes across the room. Ana’s head snaps up to face the will reader. “Excuse me?” Bunderslaw is nearly out of his chair, he’s leaning forward so far.

The reader nods in confirmation. “The position will go to Anastasia.”

Ana sits there, face slack with shock. She never expected this. Her father had talked about it when she was younger, but she thought because of her behaviour, he would have left it to the board or Bruce, but not _her_.  

Evidently, the board didn’t think so either. The members whisper to each other, glancing from each other to Ana, who still can’t believe it. It’s hers. The company is hers on her twenty-fifth birthday, only a few months away.

She glances up again at the chattering board members. Beatrice Andrews isn’t looking so sweet to her now.

She has a feeling this isn’t going to go down well.

* * *

 

Ana steps into the study and closes the door behind her, pressing her back against it and letting out a sigh. Bruce glances up at her from his place at their father’s desk, the place where he has been hiding from the guests all afternoon. They had arrived the day after the will reading, and Ana had to push the events of the meeting to the back of her mind so she could play hostess ever since.

“God, Aunt Kathy knows how to talk,” she says, pouring herself some bourbon from the cabinet and downing it.

Bruce snorts, closing the notebook where he had been sketching in. He sets down the pen and glances up at her guiltily. “I-I’m sorry I’m not helping,” he says softly.

The guilty look makes Ana’s heart squeeze. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about any of that, you don’t have to do anything, Bruce.” Frankly, she’s surprised that Bruce has left his room. He’s been hiding there or in the study for the past two days.

He fidgets with the pen. “I feel like it’s rude to leave everything to you, though.”

She shrugs, throwing herself down on the couch and patting the empty cushion beside her. He gets up and sits beside her.

“It doesn’t bother me,” She says, nudging Bruce, “Alfred’s been taking care of nearly everything, though. He’s good at playing hostess.” That gets a smile out of him, making Ana feel happier for the first time in days. She hasn’t seen that since their parents died.

Until Alfred bursts into the room.

The two stare at him for a moment in confusion. He stares back, wearing a look of pure shock.

“They’ve got him,” Alfred says.

The words make Ana freeze. She can't be sure, but she has a feeling that she knows what this is about. “What?”

 “The man who killed your parents,” Alfred says, “They’ve got him. He’s dead.”

There’s a moment of silence as the pair stare back at Alfred. The words repeat in her head. _He’s dead._

_He’s dead._

Without a word, Ana gets up from the couch and bolts out of the room. She darts into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her, locking it quickly before she slides down the door, landing in a heap.

For a moment, she’s silent as the words sink in, before something in her snaps, maybe out of shock or pure relief that maybe her parents might get justice. A loud sob erupts from her mouth, and another and another until it feels like she won’t be able to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to comealongpixie for betaing this chapter and putting up with my shitty grammar lmao. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Sorry for the long wait, I was dealing with IRL shit, but I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Thank you to those who reviewed and left kudos!!


	3. shiva

**BADLANDS**  
CHAPTER THREE  
SHIVA

“The best way to find out if you can trust someone is to trust them.”  
**-Ernest Hemingway**

Mario Pepper was an ex-con who had murdered her parents for her mother’s pearls.

The thought lingers in her head as she prepares for the funeral, applying a thick layer of makeup to hide how obvious it was that she hadn’t slept.

Her parents were dead because of what? He wanted the pearls? There’s a small voice in the back of her mind whispers that maybe he needed the money. She had found that he had come from a poorer part of Gotham and had a family of his own from the officer who had come to explain what had happened.

Part of her thinks he might have been desperate. 

The rest of her doesn’t care because her parents are dead for string of pearls.

The thought makes her set down the makeup brush and press the heels of her hands into her eyes, feeling the tears well up. She struggles to swallow down the lump in her throat, desperately trying not to cry. She has to keep herself together, just for a few more hours. The thoughts are pushed back by the thought of parents getting justice, justice that she never expected them to get. It’s a small comfort.

Detective Gordon had kept his promise, one that she had never expected him to keep. The GCPD didn’t have the best reputation, especially with the rumours of corruption and police brutality that surrounded them, which weren’t helped by the sheer amount of cases that went unsolved because half the people in this town were awful. She thought this would be another unsolved case because it was a mugging in an alleyway and the description of the killer was so generic, it could be any man on the street.

Ana wipes the stray tears away and begins to rifle through her jewellery box, her fingers brushing over her own pearl necklace. She pulls it out and stares at it for a moment. It was a birthday gift. Her parents had given it to her on her eighteenth, saying something about how she needed a mature gift because she was an adult now.

It’s not an accessory she would wear often, but now she fastens it around her neck. It may be small, but it feels like a connection to her mother. She can remember all those family parties that her mother would host when she was younger, string of pearls around her neck and a smile on her face. It’s like a little piece of her still left. Somehow, it makes her feel a little calmer.

The people are gathered downstairs before they set off the funeral soon; probably waiting on her to start the minyan service for the day, so she gets up from her chair and heads downstairs.

Faith was important to her mother. Both she and Bruce had been raised Jewish, though Ana herself hadn’t been the most observant follower for the past few years. She’s been trying to follow it now for the funeral, as this is what her mother would have wanted. Besides, there’s something comforting about just praying instead of having to deal with those who seem to want to talk about her parent’s death as a source of gossip.

Ana lingers for a moment outside the room where the coffins are. This is where the minyan service is held, where Alfred has stayed since the coffins came back to the house, vigilantly watching over her parents.

She doesn’t like to go in there anymore than she has to. Some may find comfort with them, but she doesn’t.

She walks straight past into the dining room, lingering beside one of the cabinets to pour herself a drink but pauses when she hears the snap of voices.

“This is one hell of a stunt he’s pulled.”

It’s Bunderslaw talking, sharp and angry. The sound makes her freeze. She has a feeling she knows what he’s talking about.

“Would you lower your voice?” Beatrice Adams hisses back at him, “Of all the places for you to start this conversation-“

“Well, one of us has to say it!” He hisses back.

 “Well, you could have waited until after the goddamn funeral!” Bunderslaw just groans at her in response, making Adams hiss at him, “So the girl’s been given the role, we can work with that.”

“It was supposed to be left to the board or the brother! At least then we’d have more time to make preparations,” Bunderslaw says, “Now, we have some brat as CEO in less than two months!”

Her fist clenches around the glass. She knows what they think of her. Hearing it still makes her angry, but she can’t bring herself to move away.

“Yes, but we can still work with this! Do you think she has any interest in the company?” she asks, “Because I know she doesn’t. None of this means we’ve lost any control.”

Their conversation is cut short by someone else joining the conversation, making Ana finally force herself to move, after pouring herself and Kennedy a drink. She walks straight past them with her head held high, noticing Adams looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

It makes her want to retreat again. She shouldn’t be surprised this is what they think of her, but it still hurts. She doesn’t want to think about it but she files that conversation away for later. It sounded like they were planning for something.

At the moment, Ana walks straight through the room to where Kennedy was sitting by the window. She sends Ana a smile when she spots her.

“You alright?” Kennedy says, brow furrowed in concern as Ana hands her a drink, noticing how her lips were pursed in a thin line.

“Fine,” she says, “I’m fine.” They lapse into silence. Kennedy opens her mouth to make conversation but stops, just watching her in concern. Ana downs her drink in one swig, before her attention is grabbed by a hand at her elbow.

She whips around to find Lee Thompkins standing there, dressed in dark garb for the funeral and looking near tears. “Lee,” she says, “Hi.”

She pulls Ana into an unexpected hug, causing Ana to let out a grunt at the impact. “I’m so sorry about your parents, Ana,” she says, “It’s just awful what happened, especially with Bruce, how is he?”

Lee was a friend of her mother’s. Martha had been her mentor when Lee started to work in Gotham General as a junior doctor, Martha being one of their best surgeons. She had taken Lee under her wing and they had become close friends. Ana likes the woman; she had always seemed sweet and had made an effort to talk to her and Bruce when they were both at the manor or events, seeming genuinely interested in making conversation with them. Unlike Beatrice Adams, she seems sincere.

Maybe it’s just because Lee hasn’t bitched about her behind her back and she trusts her a little more.

Ana pulls back from the hug. “Uh, he’s…” she trails off for a moment, “He’s how you would expect.”

“Of course, of course,” she says, “And what about you?”

Ana pauses, opening her mouth and closing it. She’s not sure how she feels. “I, uh…” She trails off.

Lee just nods reassuringly. “It’s okay,” she says, “You know, I have some training in counselling. If you want, I could talk to Bruce about what’s happened.”

Ana purses her lips. She’s never had the best experience with psychiatrists. The one she went to after the accident had been a little loose-lipped and wanted to make himself some extra cash, so he had taken himself off to the first tabloid that wanted to know why Ana Wayne was going off the rails.

Not only had it put her off psychiatrists, it had also put her father off.

Lee, however, was a different story. She knew her, but it still didn’t mean she trusted her completely. She wants to know more about her before she decides anything. “I’ll think about it,” she says.

“Of course,” Lee says, taking her hand, “And, you know, if you need anyone to talk to, I’m always here, okay?”

Ana nods silently. The conversation is cut off but the announcement that the prayer service would begin before they set off for the funeral. “I’ll join you in a moment,” Ana says, “I’m just going to find Bruce.” The pair nod before Ana turns on her heel and goes into the hallway, glancing into each room.

She tugs her coat on and ducks into her father’s office. It’s the only other place, apart from his bedroom, where she thinks he could be. She opens her mouth to call him, but stops in the entrance when she notices Bruce kneeling by the fireplace, curiosity making her pause and watch. Slowly, he brings his hand closer to the flames, twitching back when they came too close. His brow furrows and he tries again, getting far too close for Ana’s liking.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

That jolts him out of his concentrated state. He jumps to his face, dusting the dirt off his knees and stammering as he tries to find an answer. “N-nothing!”

She steps forward and grabs the hand that he had stuck in the fire, the skin red and hot but didn’t seem to be burnt at least. “It looked like you were trying to burn yourself,” she says, “And I thought you had learnt to stop messing with the fire after you nearly set the house alight by burning dad’s old papers.”

She recalls the incident from when Bruce was nine and bored one night, where he decided to put their father’s old and unneeded papers on the fire because he thought it looked cool. She can still remember her father telling him off because he accidentally set the carpet on fire from the sparks getting out.

Bruce snatches his hand back. “That was an accident,” he snaps and avoids her eyes, “And I was just…looking at it, alright?!”

Ana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat. Her temper has been worse than usual since their parents’ died.

She can tell he’s lying. He’s never been particularly good at it, especially to her. She doesn’t press the issue, mainly because she’s just getting pissed off about it and doesn’t want to snap at him right now because they’re both angry and upset and she’s not starting an argument on the day of their parents’ funeral. She does, however, file it away to discuss later.

 “Well, if you’re just going to lie about it, I’m not going to ask,” she snaps, “Get your coat, it’s time to for the prayer service. We’ll be going straight to the graveyard after.”

Silently, she takes Bruce’s shoulder and nudges him ahead of her, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

 

The funeral seems to drag on and be rushed through all at once. At the end, with shaking hands because her parents were being put into the ground and this was the last time she would ever see them, Ana takes a handful of dirt and drops one each on both of her parent’s coffins. She steps back and watches as Bruce does the same, willing herself not to break down.

Then it’s over.

After a long moment, she finds herself moving with the procession down the hill, guided by Alfred’s hand at her back to get her to move. She almost doesn’t feel aware of it, like a daze had come around her. She snaps out of it when they come across the detectives.

Detective Gordon watches the pair of them, almost like he was waiting for a reaction. Ana doesn’t know what she would give him. She wonders if she should thank him for killing Pepper, for maybe giving her and Bruce a little peace because the man who murdered their parents was dead. To be honest, she doesn’t know if she could open her mouth. She just feels exhausted now.

Bruce seems to solve that issue for her.

“You kept your promise.” The sound of his voice quivering makes her heart ache because she knows he’s trying to keep his head up and not cry, to be the big little man, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t see a trial,” Jim admits, glancing from Bruce to her and back again.

“That’s okay.” The pair shake hands and Alfred quickly guides Bruce on because, like her, he can tell that he’s trying not to cry.

Ana lingers for a moment.

 She should say something.

 She feels like she should definitely say something.

 She opens her mouth and closes it again when no words come, instead settling for a nod and a slight smile. To her relief, Detective Gordon doesn’t try to make any conversation, giving her a reassuring nod back. With that, Ana darts past, nearly sprinting towards the car.

* * *

 

Some days pass before Detective Gordon turns up at the manor unexpectedly, finding Bruce standing on the roof ledge when he arrives. Ana is alerted to his arrival by Alfred’s voice, hearing his angry tone when she leaves her bedroom.

“Detective Gordon is here,” he says, stopping to speak to her as he guides Bruce down the hallway, “He wishes to speak to you both.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, her eyes darting from Alfred to Bruce, who won’t make eye contact, and back again. She follows along behind them into their father’s office, resolving to ask them about it later because now didn’t seem like the right time.

Detective Gordon already stands there and greets them, only sitting down when Bruce invites him to. Bruce sits with him, but Ana stays standing with Alfred, watching the detective closely. “Why were you up on the roof?” He directs his question to Bruce.

The question grabs her attention, snapping her gaze to Bruce. “You were on the roof?!” She exclaims.

“I’m learning to conquer fear,” Bruce replies, so matter-of-factly that Ana gets a little angry. She recalls the incident from the funeral, suddenly connecting the pair.

“Is that you were doing with the fire the other day?” She asks.

“The fire?” Gordon echoes, glancing from Bruce to her.

“He put his hand in the fire on the day of the funeral because he’s trying to give me a heart attack apparently!” Ana snaps. Bruce’s gaze flicks to the floor, looking embarrassed. It makes her feel a little bad, but her anxiety about him hurting himself outweighs it.

“I wasn’t trying to frighten anyone,” he mutters.

“You sure about that?” Alfred snaps, sounding just as angry as Ana, “Almost gave me a bloody heart attack.”

“Bruce, fear doesn’t need conquering,” Gordon says, “Fear tells us where the edge is, fear is a good thing.”

“And you think I haven’t told him that, have you?” Alfred snaps.

“You came here for a reason, I imagine,” Bruce says, redirecting the conversation.

“Yes,” Gordon says, his shoulder’s slumping slightly, “Mario Pepper didn’t kill your parents.”

Ana freezes. “Excuse me?” She snaps, feeling her stomach drop.

Gordon looks towards her. “He was framed by the police department and the mob working together. We killed an innocent man.”

Of course it was too good to be true. Of course the little bit of peace that catching the killer might have given Bruce was gone.  Ana crosses her arms, beginning to pace the room. “Why…why would they frame him?”

“I believe the police department was feeling pressure to close the case early because of the panic your parents’ deaths created.” He replies.

“Did you know about this?” She snaps, staring angrily at him. She had started to view him as a good man, one that had helped them. Now, she wasn’t so sure, especially if he had known about what had happened when he had turned up at the funeral.

“No,” he says sincerely, “Not until a few days ago.”

“Right,” Alfred says, causing Gordon to break his stare away from Ana, “So who did it then?”

“I don’t know.”

“I see,” Alfred replies, sounding as disappointed as she felt, “Well, sterling work there, mate.”

“Yes,” Gordon places his police badge on the table, making Ana’s brow furrow in confusion, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bruce says, “I’m glad he’s still alive. I want to see him again.”

Ana stares at her little brother. This is what she was afraid of. At least with the killer being caught, her brother could focus on some form of recovery. Now, she knew it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

“I’m asking to give me a second chance,” Gordon says, “I’m going to find out who killed your parents and why.”

Ana looks back to him, feeling her anger rise again. Hadn’t he learnt from making promises he couldn’t keep?

He continues. “And I’m going to clean the damn police department, but I can only do that from the inside, so I’m asking you all to stay silent about what I’ve told you,” he looks from one Wayne to another, “Your call.”

“Right, well that’s sort of convenient, isn’t it?” Alfred says.

“Alfred!”

Ana stays silent, watching him closely as Bruce silently agrees to keep his promise. All she can feel is her anger at him getting her little brother’s hopes up again. If they were so willing to frame an innocent man for her parent’s murder, who else knows what the police department might do? Would her family ever get justice?

Bruce makes a quick exit, but Ana stays behind with Alfred lingering for a moment. “I’ll show Detective Gordon out,” Ana says. Alfred glances at her and nods, before following after Bruce.

The pair are silent for a moment before the detective stands up. “I suppose that’s my cue,” he says. Ana doesn’t reply, but motions towards the door, following behind him. All thoughts of the front she kept up in front of the detective before are gone. Maybe it’s because she’s too angry to think about it.

They walk in silence for a moment through the halls and by the time they make it to the front door, Ana can’t hold herself back anymore. “Do you honestly believe that you can keep this promise to Bruce?”

Her words make the detective stops in his tracks and spin around to face her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve made this promise to Bruce and look how well this has turned out for you so far!” She snaps, “You find out the man you arrested was framed and you can’t reveal it to the public, do you think it’s going to get better from here?”

“Because I want to believe that the system can be made better, that people in this city can get justice,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making Ana narrow her eyes at him, trying to figure the man out, “Do you think I’ll not be able to do that?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t live in an ivory tower, detective. I know how Gotham works and I know that it’s unfair to make a promise to Bruce that you most likely won’t be able to deliver on!” She’s unable to stop her voice from rising, clenching her fists as she looks back the detective.

He blinks at her, looking a little shocked at her reaction. “Miss Wayne, I wouldn’t have made that promise to your brother _and_ to you if I didn’t think I could keep it,” he says, “I want to get you and your brother justice for your parents.”

She crosses her arms over chest, stepping back from him. His sincerity makes her unsure of him. After the events of the last few days, it makes her want to be left alone to think about it. “Yeah, well, my brother trusts you on this. Don’t screw it up.”

The detective nods and makes his exit. Ana stands at the front door of the mansion and watches him drive away, with his words lingering on her mind. _I want to get you and your brother justice._

She wonders if he’ll be able to keep his promise.

* * *

 

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thank you to all of those who reviewed, followed and read!**


	4. keeping up appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tries to deal with his nightmares. Ana's dinner ends with disaster. Jim gets an invitation.

**BADLANDS**  
**CHAPTER FOUR**  
**KEEPING UP**   **APPEARANCES**

“I am tired of hiding, tired of misspent and knotted energies, tired of the hypocrisy, and tired of acting as though I have something to hide.”  
**― Kay Redfield Jamison**

 “Come on Alfred, where have you hidden these?” Ana mutters, searching through the kitchen cupboards for the cookies Alfred had made to try to get Bruce to eat something. He had hidden the rest and now she wants a midnight snack.

 “Aha!” She lets out a cry of triumph, finding the stash at the back of one of the cupboards.

“Now, isn’t this a familiar sight?”

Ana lets out a squawk, dropping her phone and the cookies with a clatter. “Shit, Alfred –“

“Language!”

She tries not to roll her eyes. “Try to make some noise next time, will you?”

“I thought you would be used to someone finding you sneaking about, as the younger generation may say, ‘off your face’ and looking for a little snack,” he replies, raising his eyebrows.

She makes sure to exaggerate her eye roll this time. “A: I never came home high, Alfred, I wasn’t that bad, and I’m not even high now and B: what are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.”

 A familiar look of exasperation flickers across his face, before he sighs. “Nightmares again?”

The smile drops from Ana’s face, looking anywhere but in Alfred’s direction. “No,” she admits begrudgingly, wanting to change the subject, “just didn’t feel like sleeping yet, I’m enjoying a Doctor Who marathon. You should try it Alfred, it would make you feel right at home, all that British stuff.”

She glances at Alfred out of the corner of her eye and sees him let out a sigh. He knows her tactics well. “Would you like me to make you some chamomile tea?”

“Yes please,” she replies, moving out of his way and boosting herself up onto the kitchen counter. “Any way you could make it Irish?” She smiles at him, trying to lessen a little of the tension.

Alfred raises an eyebrow at her. “That only works with coffee, and don’t push your luck.”

At that, her phone beeps again with a message from Rebecca, a college friend who had invited her out for dinner with their other friend Noelle. They had been texting on-and-off all day. It’s the first time she’s made contact since her parents died.

“That one of your mates again?”

Ana raises an eyebrow. “How did you know?”

“It’s hard not to notice,” Alfred says. “That Rebecca one seems very persistent to see you, for someone who didn’t bother her arse to show up around here for the past few days.”

Ana drops her eyes to the phone, not wanting to meet Alfred’s unimpressed gaze. She knows what he thinks of her friends, that they’re self-centred and they don’t care about her as much as she does about them; hell, he’s told her as much.

The thing is, Alfred doesn’t have that knot in his stomach at the thought of being left alone or that voice in the back of his mind telling him that he’s a _freak_ and you have to go or they’re going to leave you in the dust and laugh at you, _freeeak_.

No, she’s the one that has the joy of all that.

She doesn't say any of that. “Well,” she says instead, “they want me to come out to dinner with them.”

“Is that what you want?”

She doesn’t have an answer to that. For the last few days, her paranoia has been pushing back and forth between her fear of being alone or being a disappointment. Her parents have died with them being disappointed in her and there is nothing she could do to change that.

Is this all she would ever be?

The sound of a faint scream stops the pair in their tracks before they bolt from the room.

They follow the screaming to Bruce’s bedroom, sprinting up the stairs and through the door to find Bruce screaming and tossing fitfully in the bed.

Ana jumps onto the bed while Alfred goes to the side, the pair shaking the boy to wake him up. “Bruce!” She grips his shoulders and tries to shake him awake. “Bruce, wake up!”

He opens his eyes and bolts upright, still screaming. She wraps her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and shaking him. “Wake up!”

Bruce’s screaming begins to fade and shifts into sobbing. Ana hugs him tightly and strokes his hair, trying desperately to calm him, rocking him back-and-forth and shushing him gently. Alfred holds onto his hands, trying to ground him. “It’s alright, Master B, you are home, and you’re safe.”

Ana squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to cry, too.

* * *

 

Ana makes her way down to the kitchen again the next night; she's just about to open the door when Bruce darts out. He startles when he sees her, shoving something behind his back before she can see what it is.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

She raises an eyebrow at him as Bruce tries to avoid eye contact. “Uh huh,” she says. “So show me what’s in your hands, then?”

“I--I don’t have anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on squirt, you really got to work on your lying skills,” she says, reaching behind his back and snatches something out of his hands. “You’re nearly a teenager, being able to lie is like a prerequisite…”

Ana trails off as she finally notices that it’s a coffee jar she’s holding in her hand. Bruce starts stuttering to out an explanation, but she cuts him off with a “since when do you drink coffee?”

His eyes dart back and forth, looking anywhere but her. “For ages.”

“Says the boy who still can’t drink tea because it tastes like mud,” she replies, squinting at him.

“Well, coffee’s different!” he exclaims.

“It’s really not,” she replies. “Seriously, Bruce, it’s like ten at night, what are you doing with…” Ana trails off as the realisation hits her. “This is about the nightmares, isn’t it?”

Bruce is still staring at his feet. “I read somewhere that when people get so tired they go into such a deep sleep that they can’t dream, so I thought…” He trails off, gesturing to the jar.

Ana sighs. She knows that tactic well -- it’s one she used to try when her own nightmares got so bad -- but she’s not too keen on letting her brother try it. She sets the jar on a nearby table and slings her arm around her little brother’s shoulders, walking him into the lounge.

“How about instead of you drinking the coffee and Alfred killing me for letting you when you’re bouncing off the walls in an hour, we have a movie night instead? Stay up as long as we like, watch whatever you want?”

His face lights up. “Even Zorro? You hate Zorro!”

She shrugs. “I can make an exception sometimes. So, are you up for that? If you get the movie set up, I’ll grab blankets and popcorn?”

Bruce nods happily and ducks into the lounge, while Ana turns back to the kitchen.

Movie nights used to be a regular occurrence when they were younger, before she started going out with her friends more after the accident. By the time she moved out for college, they had stopped completely on account of her barely being home

It’s nice to be doing something normal that makes her brother smile, even if it is an attempt to stop his nightmares. She has no clue if this will work, but it’s a hell of a lot better than coffee. Ana wishes her mom was there to help. She would know exactly what to do and say to make Bruce calm.

Ana’s worried that she’ll screw it up like usual.

A few minutes later, armed with a bowl of popcorn and blankets, she makes her way back into the lounge. She and Bruce settle into their usual spot; they take the cushions off the couch and put them on the ground in front of it. Then they sit, leaning back against the couch and wrapping themselves in blankets to make a nest.

When the movie finishes a few hours later, Ana takes a moment to feel proud of herself for not looking at her phone, despite the fact that Zorro bores her to tears. It annoys Bruce when she does that in the middle of a movie, he was just like their dad—

The thought makes her pause in her efforts to change the movie, glancing back at Bruce instead. He's rubbing at his eyes, trying very carefully not to yawn. It’s obvious that he needs sleep, but she knows he won’t do so.

Should she ask about the nightmares? It’s what her mom did with her -- try to talk them out to make her feel better. With that thought, she puts down the DVD and sits back down with Bruce.

He frowns at her. “Are you not going to change the movie?”

“Actually…if it’s okay…I wanted to ask you about the nightmares?” She tries not to indicate her hesitation, especially when Bruce frowns and slides further down into the blankets to avoid looking at her. “Because,” Ana continues, “you know I’m always here to talk to and it always made me feel better to talk about them with mom.”

He shrugs. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Maybe…like what happens?” She tries to ignore the fact that it feels like she’s floundering.

"The same thing. I watch mom and dad..." he trails off for a moment, fidgeting with the blanket. "And I just feel afraid and I know Detective Gordon says fear can be a good thing, but it doesn't feel like that when I'm in the middle of those."

“I know what that’s like,” she says softly, “but they’re not as a bad as you get older.”

“But do you still have yours?” he asks. Ana hesitates before she nods. Bruce looks stricken. “Well, I don’t want them at all, I don’t want to be afraid!”

“Kid, I wish there was something that could make them go away instantly but there isn’t,” she admits, opening her mouth to continue when –

“But there has to be something I can do!” he exclaims. “It’s been eight years since the accident and you still get yours.”

“Well, everyone’s different; maybe yours won’t last as long as mine.”

“I don’t want to wait to find out! I want to do something!” His voice almost echoes through the room.

“Okay.” Ana says, trying to be reassuring and not look startled at his shouting. “Okay, I hear you.”

There's a pause. Then:

“…do you think I could speak to Detective Gordon again?” Bruce asks, earning a confused look from his sister. He elaborates.  “He spoke to me after…I think he knows what it’s like.”

Ana hesitates. She still worries that Bruce has his hopes up about the Detective and solving their parents’ murder. “…Maybe.”

Bruce frowns. “Do you not like him?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him…”

“I think he’s good; he seems to be determined to solve crimes, which is very good considering the number of GCPD unsolved cases,” he says quickly, sounding very matter-of-fact.

Ana raises an eyebrow. “You been reading the papers again?”

“Well, the news does change every day, you know.”

Ana snorts and swats at his arm. “Don’t be cute,” she says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Ana.”

“C’mon, let’s see if we can fit in a little Harry Potter before bed.” She gets up, turns on the movie, and then settles in beside Bruce again.

She doesn't really focus on the movie; instead, her mind stays fixated on what she could do for him. Should she get him to talk to a counsellor? Her fear of Bruce having his own troubles leaked just like hers pushes her to ignore that question. She won’t have him be laughed at as well.

Soon, she feels Bruce’s head drop onto her shoulder and hears snoring gently. She plants a kiss on his head and lingers there for a moment. How the hell would she deal with this? Her mom and dad would know exactly what do and say, they always did. Tears prick at her eyes, as a sudden wave of hopelessness hits her. How could she help Bruce? What could she do? She tries to hold her breath to stop Bruce from hearing her, feeling a sob beginning to erupt from her throat.

More than anything, she wants her mom to come in to smile and tell them everything was going to be fine; she wouldn’t even care if she got a lecture about something stupid she did.

She just wants her mom.

* * *

 

Ana barges her way into Chez Vous, tucking her stray curls behind her ears. It was finally time to meet her friends for dinner, and she’s is already late. She’s in no mood for this, overtired and anxious about leaving Bruce, but her underlying paranoia about disappointing her friends pushes her out at the last minute.

She spots Kennedy out of the corner of her eye, who waves her over in turn. She tries to ignore the stares of the other patrons, and fixes a smile on her face as she takes her seat, Kennedy beside her with Rebecca and Noelle facing them.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “Traffic was wild.”

“That’s okay, hun,” Noelle says, grabbing onto to her hand and squeezing it, “How are you doing?”

“As well as I can be,” she replies, trying to slip her hand out of her grip.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, Toby had taken me to that resort in Cyprus and there was like, no reception,” she says. “I didn’t even hear the news until the flight back, it’s so tragic. You should absolutely go there though, doll, the spa is to die for and plenty of booze! It’s expensive, but totally in your price range.” She stage-whispers this to Ana. Her face lights up before she covers her mouth over with her hand and gasps, “we should go for Becca’s birthday!”

Ana holds in a sigh and nods, muttering, “totally,” before she takes a swig of the red wine that the waiter poured for her. She’s not surprised that it’s back to business as usual. She will not be surprised if she has to pay for the meal later, either; this is just what they did and usually she doesn’t mind it. If anything, she enjoys it, if only because it makes her feel liked and included. Now, though, she just feels tired.

She frowns as a dish is set in front of her, glancing from it to the waitress. “Excuse me, I didn’t order this,” she says, pointing at the food.

“Oh, I ordered for you, sweetie,” Rebecca says, waving away the waitress.

“Why would you do that?” Ana snaps, feeling her stomach twist in anger. She’s just too tired for this. _Jesus_ , why did people just assume they knew what she wanted? “What is this, anyway?”

Rebecca and Noelle exchange a shocked glance, before looking back at Ana. “Well, you were late and we were hungry so…” she trails off, letting out a nervous giggle before continuing, “and it’s chicken parmigiana.”

Something in her sparks, making her clench her fist around her fork to try to repress the anger bubbling in her stomach. It doesn’t work. “I can’t eat that,” she snaps.

“…Why not?” Noelle asks, looking wide-eyed and nervous.

“It’s not kosher!” she snaps, throwing the fork down on the table.

“I didn’t--“

“God, did you even think!?” Ana snarls at her, scrunching up the napkin and throwing it on the table as well. At the back of her mind, she thinks to herself that _it’s just a_ _meal, calm down_ , but it seems like now that she’s started, she’s not able to stop.

“Ana!” Kennedy snaps.

“Who do you think you are ordering for me, my mother?”

“ _Ana!_ ” Kennedy is finally able to snap her attention towards her for a moment. “Let’s go outside.”

“What?”

“Let’s go out for a smoke, come on,” she says, throwing down her own napkin and getting off the chair, “Come on!”

Ana sighs and gets out of the chair, following after Kennedy, who throws a “Be back in a minute” at the two still at the table. The pair sit with identical dear-in-headlights expressions on their faces. Kennedy pulls her out to the front of the restaurant to sit on the chairs outside. Ana opens her purse, trying to find her cigarettes.

“What the hell was that?!” Kennedy exclaims.  

“It wasn’t kosher,” she replies, struggling to light her cigarette because her hands won’t stop shaking and she’s still so fucking angry.

“What?” Kennedy replies, her brow crinkling in confusion.

“The food!” Ana snaps. “The food wasn’t kosher and I couldn’t eat it and she knows that! I know I’m not very good at keeping the faith but that is the one thing I follow and she should know that!”

Kennedy tilts her head in confusion. She hesitates for a moment before she speaks. “Okay, okay, why don’t we just sit down for minute and calm down before you take someone else’s head off.”

At that, Ana throws herself down on one of the patio chairs nearby and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. The pair sit in silence for a moment before Kennedy speaks again.

“Ok, can I be honest?” Ana raises an eyebrow at her, nodding at her to continue, “You’re not even that observant with other stuff, like going to temple, why is this so important?”

Ana sighs, running her hands through her hair. “It’s…a connection, it’s something physical connecting me to my faith.” She trails off, fiddling with her rings. “Even if I don’t make it to temple or I don’t insist on going to kosher restaurants, I’m not completely cut off, I still have this connection. And…” Ana takes in a deep breath. “It’s also a connection to my mom. This was so important to her, you know, like we had two kitchens at home to make sure the food was prepped right. I want that connection with her. Even if I’m disappointing her with other stuff, there’s that at least…” she sighs. “I don’t know, now it just feels like I’m disappointing her even more by not saying something to them, not standing up more.”

Kennedy’s quiet for a moment, resting her head on Ana’s shoulder. “You’re better than me,” she says. “I just made my first communion for the dress.”

That earns a slight smile from Ana. “That was an incredible dress. Didn’t you have a fancy lace veil and everything?”

“Hand-stitched.”

“Ugh, I’m still jealous.”

It isn’t even that funny, but it still sets the pair off giggling. They lapse back into silence for a while, before Kennedy speaks up again. “Hey,” she says, “Word of advice?”

“Yeah?”

“Just see if Bruce still has an interest in his faith…. don’t completely stop and never look back like my dad did when my mom died,” she says. “Going to church and being a Catholic was so important to my mom, so when my dad just stopped going to church and everything it just felt like another piece of her was gone, you know?”

Ana stares at her friend for a moment, while Kennedy stares into the traffic, before Ana throws her arms around her. She’s so grateful for Kennedy. She doesn’t know if she says that enough. “I love you a lot, you know that right?”

Kennedy hugs her back tightly. “I love you too.” She pats her back and pulls away. “Ugh, this getting too sappy for me, we better go back inside before there’s more drama.”

Ana sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.” The two of them get up and go back into the restaurant, taking their seats at the table. Rebecca and Noelle stare at them for a moment, unsure.

The group sit in silence for a moment and Ana sips her drink. “So Kennedy,” Noelle says, “Have you--“

Noelle doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before Ana, out of the corner of her eye, spots the boy falling towards the window and screams "Look out!" before jumping back, grabbing Kennedy's arm to take her down with her.

It happens too late as the boy falls through the window, directly on top of Kennedy.

The other two girls jump back as the restaurant is showered in glass and the force causes the table to capsize, food scattering everywhere. A ringing silence comes over the restaurant as everyone turns to stare.

Ana stares in shock for a moment, before hearing Kennedy groan in pain. The sound makes her snap to attention, rushing over to help her and shoving the boy off. She opens her mouth to ask how she feels but immediately closes it again when she notices the large shard of glass sticking out of Kennedy’s leg.

Kennedy seems to notice it herself at the same time, beginning to swear and clutch at her leg. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ana says, trying to be reassuring as she grabs a nearby napkin to press around the wound, trying to remember what her mother advised her to do in these kind of situations. “Don’t look at it, just focus on me, ok?”

The other girl whines in pain, slapping her hands over her mouth to stifle what Ana can tell are the beginning of sobs. She abruptly turns her attention to the ground who haven’t seemed to snap out of their shock. “Hey!” she barks, “Somebody call 911!” They stare at her for a moment,

 “ _Now!_ ”

* * *

 

 “Get back on the couch!”

Kennedy falls back onto the couch with a groan. “Oh my god, I just want to get some water by myself!”

Kennedy's only been out of the hospital for eighteen hours. It's only the day after the incident, but she begged the staff to let her go, promising to stay on bedrest. Ana's been by her side the whole time, partly because she doesn't want her to be alone, and partly because she knows that, left to her own devices, Kennedy will not stay in bed.

“You literally had a chunk of glass sticking out of your leg; you need to stay off your feet! It’s a bit of a push for you to be out of bed anyway.”

“ _Uuuugh_ , but _mom_ ,” she whines, making Ana swat the back of her head with a magazine. Kennedy doesn’t like being off her feet, much less having someone hover over her. It makes her a little more snarky than usual. Ana doesn’t take it under her notice, on account of the fact that she’s sleep deprived and still a little on edge from being in the hospital. Kennedy hates hospitals.  

The chime of the doorbell grabs their attention. “I’ll get it,” Ana says. “Just rest, okay?”

“Where would I be without you?” Ana can almost hear her eye roll.

“Somewhere being incredibly bored!” Ana’s answer gets a laugh from Kennedy, which in turns makes her smile.

That is, until she sees who’s actually at the door through the peephole.

Ana hasn’t seen or heard from Detective Gordon since the night he promised to find out who killed her parents, and part of her is glad of that. His presence is uncomfortable. Ana keeps up a front around most people, and for good reason, but the detective has seen a side of her, angry and emotional and _authentic_ , that few people get to see.

It makes her feel vulnerable.

She doesn’t like it.

Ana sighs and opens the door, fixing a slight smirk on her face as Detective Gordon is revealed. Just because he had seen that vulnerable part of her doesn’t mean he can see it again. “Detective,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Something tells me this isn’t a social call?”

The flirtatious front is back up again. It makes her feel a little more secure.

The detective quirks his eyebrows. “Afraid not, ma’am -- _Miss Wayne_.”

“How disappointing,” she quips. “What’s this about then?”

“I wanted to speak to you and Miss Vasquez about what happened last night in Chez Vous. Can I come in?”

“Why?” Ana raises an eyebrow. “Ken decided to not press charges.”

“This isn’t related to that,” he says. “Well, semi-related.” She tilts her head at him in confusion. “Can I come in?”

She leans back on her heels and, without breaking eye contact with him, calls “Ken, Detective Gordon is here!”

There’s a pause before “…why?” She sounds almost nervous.

“I wanted to speak to you about the boy that caused your accident, ma’am,” Gordon calls out in response. “I believe it could be connected to a possible kidnapping,” Gordon calls out his answer.

“…well come on in, I guess,” Kennedy replies. Ana turns on her heel and beckons him in with a flick of her finger. They head into the living room where Kennedy now stands, blanket abandoned and arms folded. A wince of pain flickers across her face, but she quickly covers it up.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be –“

“I’m fine, Ana, just leave it,” she snaps. Ana doesn’t reply, instead taking in the tension in Kennedy’s spine and the way her eyes dart back and forth, simultaneously watching Detective Gordon without making eye contact. “What do you need, Detective?”

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about the accident last night, specifically about a possible kidnapper—“ he pauses at the sight of her wincing in pain again – “are you sure you don’t need to sit down, Miss Vasquez?”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Okay, okay,” Gordon says, trying to be reassuring. “We have reason to believe that the boy that came through the window was running from a possible kidnapper. According to him, he was being chased and fell. The two of you of you were sitting close to the window, did either of you see this man? White, looked to be in his fifties?”

“No,” Ana says, shaking her head. “I didn’t see anybody. Ken?”

She glances at Ken, seeing the realisation cross her face. “I-- I think I did,” she says, sounding unsure, “and uh, I think I saw him before we had dinner, as well.”

“You did?” Gordon sounds surprised.

“Yeah, I was having a smoke before dinner and I saw him get into a truck with some woman,” she explains.

“What did she look like?”

Kennedy shrugs. “I don’t know, frumpy, looked older.” She rubs at her eyes. “I don’t know, I only saw them for like two minutes.”

“That’s great. Can you make it to the station to give a description and make a statement?”

Kennedy’s eyes nearly jump out of her head. “Do I have to? Isn’t this enough?”

“Miss, these are dangerous criminals who have kidnapped a number of children, this could help catch them.”

“But…” Kennedy trails off.

“Ken, come on, kids have been kidnapped,” Ana says. “You don’t have to be alone, I’ll come with you.”

There’s a moment of quiet, before Kennedy lets out a groan and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Right, fine, I’ll come tomorrow.”

Thank you," Gordon says; then, taking in how nervous Kennedy still looks, adds, "Uh, I think I should go.”

“I think that’s for the best,” Ana says. “I’ll show you out.”

“I need a minute,” Kennedy says, disappearing into her bedroom. Ana frowns after her, unsure as to why he had made her so nervous. She saves it to ask about later, before gesturing to the detective.

“I’ve been meaning to call,” Gordon says, as they step out of Kennedy’s apartment. “How are you holding up?”

She watches him for a moment before shrugging. What can she tell him? That she wants her parents back? That her nightmares are getting so bad that she barely sleeps? That she is tired and angry and sad but has to hold all that vulnerability in because if she doesn't, someone will inevitably use it against her? He didn’t need to know that, she didn’t want him to know anything about that.

“I’m, uh…” she trails off before settling with, “I’m holding up.”

The detective watches her, but doesn't comment; he just nods. “And Bruce?”

“He’s how you would expect,” she says, being careful about what she tells him. She won’t have Bruce be mocked the way she’s been. “We’re trying to help.”

He nods. “That’s good to hear. I was hoping to come and speak to you both.” He hesitates. “I suppose I better go.”

As she watches him turn away, she opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. She wants to help Bruce in whatever way she can. Detective Gordon may not be a therapist, but he might be able to help him, even a little. She doesn’t want him to get Bruce’s hopes up with the case, but still, she wants to do anything she can to help him.

“You should come for dinner,” she calls after him, making him stop and turn back.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure Alfred can make a better meal than whatever you usually get,” she remarks, keeping the flighty façade up. Besides, she wants to be there to see what he says to Bruce.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do I you think I usually get?”

She shrugs. “Typical cop diet, doughnuts and coffee?”

“Well, that’s only for five out of seven nights a week,” he says. “Barbara and I aren’t exactly cooks.”

“Barbara?”

“Oh, my fiancée.”

“Ah, well, you shouldn’t keep her waiting. In fact, bring her too, we'll make it a party.” She watches him take a step back, before her smile falters, hesitating.

“Detective, I think that Bruce would really appreciate it if you came.”

He smiles. “I’ll be there as soon as the case ends.”

She allows herself to give a small smile back. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey! Hello to the readers that have hopefully still remained during that gap. Sorry, life happened. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Major thank you to comealongpixie for betaing this chapter and putting up with my terrible grammar lmao they are an angel who I don’t deserve. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to have the next one up soon! Let me know what you thought.


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